Raiwen The Cursed
by lovefuryANDpassion
Summary: A mysterious wanderer sent by Gandalf happens to come across the four hobbits and Aragorn. She joins them in their quest to destroy the ring for once and for all. Not just to destroy the evil it possesses but to uplift a hellacious curse. Eventual Legolas/OC
1. Frodo The Hobbit

_Raiwen The Cursed_

Chapter One: Frodo The Hobbit

**A/N: **Everything you recognise belongs to Tolkien unfortunately, however I do own Raiwen. This is my first LOTR fic so please be nice although criticism is appreciated! I hope you enjoy and please tell me what you think.

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><p>The heavy rain beat down on her mercilessly as she roamed the dimly lit streets of Bree, in search of one place in particular, The Prancing Pony. It was not the first time she had ever found herself in Bree with a quest in mind and she doubted it would be her last. But this quest held the most importance to her. It would not reward her with wealth, nor love, nor meed. But with something that she longed for the most, the uplift of a hellacious curse. A curse that had been tormenting her for the better part of her existence. It made her watch her loved ones die, made her become banished from her own town, made her <em>suffer<em>.

She would often hear the questioning whispers of the towns people whenever she would pass through, her sharp ears picking up every word. They would query her, judge her, resent her. But not one soul would ever make their prejudice thoughts known to the mysterious warrior, however she already knew.

With her menacing exterior, it was no wonder why anyone ever approached the wanderer. Her petite body was always draped in black fabric that appeared far too big for her frame, she liked to keep her gender hidden, that way no one ever doubted her skills. A leather belt hung loosely around her waist, various weapons at her disposal if she ever may need them. Her features forever hidden by the crimson cloak that shrouded it, concealing her long raven locks and her mesmerizing scarlet irises. Two long inscribed blades were strapped to her back, used to slaughter any being that caused a threat. Despite this, there was also her intimidating demeanor that made her someone to be feared amongst the towns people.

Although she aired fearsome to most, all Raiwen wished for was her normality.

Having reached her destination, Raiwen flung open the wooden door to the tavern and entered with an air of confidence, which caused heads to swivel in her direction. The loud thuds of muddy boots echoed throughout the room as everyone silently watched the mysterious wanderer take her seat to the far left of the tavern. With a flick of her wrist, she urged the drunken locals to carry on with their festivities to which they complied easily, chugging down ale as fast as they possibly could and laughing merrily amongst themselves.

A smile tugged at her lips as she witnessed the ongoing celebrations, for what she didn't know, but it was warming to see other people enjoying themselves. A part of her desired that aspect of life, feeling happy, being with others; yet while she was under this curse she was destined for neither. Which explained why she was aloof and cold to everyone that she passed, it was dangerous.

Her senses brought her out of her thoughts, each one getting stronger by the second, making it hard for Raiwen to even concentrate. They were becoming so strong it was beginning to feel painful for the young warrior. She could hear the tainted tones of Sauron, smell the blood that would be shed, taste the ominous evil that lurked in the air and feel the tension in the crowded tavern begin to rise with every passing moment.

All of these senses directed her to one dark haired hobbit that sat at the bar.

It was irking how much power the ring possessed, even beyond touch it could harm anyone that knew of its presence. Which is why it needed to be destroyed, once and for all. That sort of power could not be contained by anyone of any race. Not Elf, Man, Dwarf and certainly not Hobbit. They would soon become corrupted by Sauron and his sheer evil would conquer all.

She surveyed the possessor of the ring for a short while. He seemed like your typical hobbit, lover of ale and every food he could get his stubby hands on. However, he looked worried and she had a strong suspicion that it was something to do with the ring that was enclosed inside his worn-out pocket.

It was then that her keen eyes caught onto the dark figure tucked away in the corner. He was also studying the young hobbit carefully, with that of curiosity and a hardened gaze. His steely orbs were the only thing he presented, the rest of his face was shrouded by a heavy hood, much like her own. She predicted him to be a Ranger. She could tell by his mannerisms and the way he carried himself, something that was all too familiar. She could easily be mistaken for one herself but that would be extremely foolish.

The Ranger's attention was now on Raiwen, much to her displeasure. He had seemed to have noticed her stares and was now returning the favour. She simply unsheathed one of her two blades and began to sharpen them, which gained the attention of a few others as well as him. Raiwen was hoping that the Ranger would grasp the concept of her message and steer clear from her and the hobbit, or not. She wouldn't mind spilling his blood, along with anyone else who tried to stand in her way.

Raiwen watched as the hobbit who she now knew of as Frodo Baggins, began to fall after tripping over one of his half-witted friends. A flicker of gold was thrust up into the air, immediately drawing her eyes to it as well as the Ranger's. Reaching his hand up into the air, Frodo let the gold band slip onto his finger and he vanished into thin air, one of the rings few powers. A gasp vibrated throughout the tavern at the sight and she felt the Ranger raise a little in his seat at the sudden reaction. A few moments passed and Frodo was now back into view as he tucked the ring away into the safety of his pocket. Luckily, the people of the tavern had turned their attention back to their ale and must of put the disappearance act down to consuming too much of it.

Eyeing him skeptically, she looked on as he stood to his feet and made his way over to the hobbit. She tensed when he took a hold of him and led him upstairs. Maybe the ring had gotten to the Ranger more than she cared to think, did he want it for himself? Deciding that now was the time to take action, Raiwen hurried after the two to find them in a nearby room, neither looking hostile to her surprise.

"If you seek the ring, you can leave now. Or I can make you." Raiwen demanded, a vicious tone lacing her voice.

The Ranger then removed his hood and smiled at the woman before him, "Raiwen, I believe we are on the same side."

Raiwen recognised the Ranger as Aragorn, son of Arathorn and heir to the throne of Gondor. She had come across Aaragorn a number of times before, they were no strangers, the pair of them helping each other on a series of quests some years ago. Raiwen may have even called him a friend at one point, something that was so foreign to her, he was someone she could rely on and was the first person to comfort her when he learned of her curse. She hadn't intended on him finding out, he caught her, to which she then had to open up. Aaragorn could then piece together the puzzle and figure out the anomalous ways of Raiwen. She had a hunch that there was something familiar about the Ranger, now she knew why.

"Let him go or I'll have you, Longshanks!"

Raiwen turned her hidden face slightly to see the three remaining hobbits equipped with a chair and a candlestick. A smirk pulled at her lips at the sight, how foolish of them. With one swift motion, the hobbits 'weapons' were kicked from their grasp and sent hurdling at the wall. Aragorn expected that kind of response from Raiwen and a small smile spread across his face at his old friend. On the other hand, the three hobbits were rendered defenseless with a dumbfounded expression etched onto theirs.

"You have a stout heart little hobbit," Aragorn started, "But that alone will not save you."

Taking a step forward the Ranger carried on, "You can no longer wait for the wizard Frodo," He glanced towards Raiwen and she nodded her head in return, she knew what he was thinking and he was unerring, "They're coming."

"Who are you?!" One of the slightly hairier hobbits exclaimed at the two incredulously.

"They call me Strider." Aaragorn answered, not revealing to them who he truly was to which Raiwen respected.

"What about you?"

Yanking off her hood, she let herself adjust to the small amount of light in the room and shook her hair free, receiving awe-inspired gazes from the hobbits as she did so.

"You may call me Raiwen, that is all. No lady, just Raiwen." She stated as she took in the way they looked at the pale woman.

Upon hearing this, one of the hobbits stepped forward rather timidly and motioned to himself and his friends as he mumbled, "I'm Pipin and that's Merry; that's Samwise Gamgee with Frodo there."

Aragorn explained the situation to the hobbits who still seemed shocked by it. They were to go on an adventure. Four hobbits. It was unusual for hobbits to venture past The Shire and now here they were in Bree waiting for the sunlight so they could journey to Rivendell with two mysterious warriors by their side. It was exhilarating to the hobbits but they were also warned by Aragorn that it would be perilous and would test their courage, if they had any. They would encounter beasts that the hobbits thought could only exist in their darkest dreams. Including the Nazgûl that hunted sleeplessly for the ring. She could hear their screeches as they neared Bree; they were closer than she had guessed and it wouldn't take long until they haunted the streets of Bree. Aaragorn could sense her discomfort and she nodded at him in response, confirming his fears. Without another word she pulled her hood back over her head and roved out into the rain once more.

"What is the matter?" Frodo asked, a mix of curiosity and panic mixed within his irises.

"They have arrived."

"Who are they?"

"They are the Nazgûl, ringwraiths, neither living or dead. At all times they feel the presence of the ring, drawn to the power of the one. They will never stop hunting you."


	2. Legolas The Elf

_Raiwen The Cursed_

Chapter Two: Legolas The Elf

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><p>Her face was all he could picture in the deep depths of his mind. Every ounce of him wanted to brood on anything but, yet he couldn't seem to control his thoughts, like some strange spell had been cast upon him. It was like she was haunting him. However, he wasn't afraid of her, he was afraid of what she was doing to him, mentally and physically.<p>

The visions had started a few starry nights from now, each one becoming more vivid than the last. At first he thought they were just dreams and he would soon get over it, but now he saw them as warnings. For what, he couldn't say. He had a hunch that it was something to do with the dark aura he felt cloud over him whenever her face came into view, or the unfamiliar fluttering in his stomach when her lifeless orbs stared into his soul. Fear. That's what it was. It had to be.

He had never come across the woman in his immortal life, yet here she was plaguing his mental state of mind until he became utterly frustrated with himself. Legolas Thranduilion was a prince of the elves, it was in his nature to be calm, collected and sharp, not just because he was an elf but because he had royal blood flowing through his veins. However, he found it infuriatingly hard when the mysterious woman flashed in his mind.

The one thing that was always burned into his memory were her eyes. They were the beauty of a thousand gods, as breathtaking as a blazing wildfire. They hypnotized him to make him entranced into their lair; dark, evil, and waiting to kill. The blood that was splashed with each ruin had barely contained itself into the iris, rimming the pupil with a gilded layer of sleek water. Just looking into them made him want to fall to his knees in weakness, the power escaping every crevice of his body.

And then he would return to reality, shaking his head of the images that attempted to corrupt him to the core. Enough of this nonsense, he _needed _answers.

Without another moment wasted, he swiftly moved to the Mirkwood stables and mounted his steed. If anyone would be able to tell him what was happening it would be Lady Galadriel, one of the most powerful and fairest elves to ever grace Middle Earth. With that notion in process, he set off on his journey to Lothlórien, eager to seek the answers he so desperately craved.

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><p>"Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood and son of Thranduil, what do I owe the pleasure?"<p>

Before Legolas had even opened his mouth to greet the Lady of Lórien, she had welcomed him, turning as she did so to observe the younger ellen. Her beauty still remained even after thousands of years, she was the epitome of elegance. Not one waved lock of blonde hair fell out of place nor did the glow of her skin fade with age. The normally composed elf had to steel himself, blushing ever so slightly as he did so.

"Forgive me for my sudden appearance, my lady. But I have come to seek your assistance, if you may give it."

"I presume it is about the occurrences of a certain maiden in your dreams, is it not?" She replied, a hint of amusement twinkling in her brightly lit eyes.

Legolas nodded at her with a frown and without a word, she gestured him to follow her. Galadriel had took them to the gardens; the light of the moon glowed down onto the land, making it seem more mystical than it was but highlighting the beauty that Lothlórien held. In the middle stood a sparkling silver basin filled with water, which he instantly recognised as The Mirror of Galadriel from his father's tales.

Both elves now stood before the basin, Galadriel holding a goblet filled with the purest water. She examined Legolas as she poured the water into the basin, enjoying the soothing sound of it splash and trickle.

"Look into the mirror and you shall see." She commented, still watching the prince as he now raised his cerulean orbs to meet hers, "Do not be afraid."

Holding back a sigh, he angled his head forward, noticing the water ripple and then transform into an image before him.

He saw a cloaked figure fending off masses of Orcs; twin blades slicing through them with precision and unfaltering grace. Black blood sprayed on the ground followed by the harsh thuds of the bodies that had once possessed it. The figure extended its hand to Legolas who it had just saved from a brutal demise. He watched himself as he reluctantly took the figures hand and let it haul him to his feet. Then the water rippled once more to reveal another image. He saw himself standing outside a room, pacing back and forth as if he was nervous for a particular reason. He was dressed rather smartly, his silver tunic glittering with his movements. Then he came to an abrupt halt as the door opened and out she stepped. The image of the face that had been encrypted into his mind cascaded across the water. Her hair was as dark as the night sky, streaming down her neck in perfected curls, contrasting with her porcelain complexion, although it was more deathly than it was bright. With her high cheek bones and full lips, she could have easily been mistaken for an elven maiden, but she harboured a darkness that proved she wasn't. Then his blue irises found her scarlet ones. The one feature that he couldn't shake no matter what he tried to do.

Lady Galadriel watched on as the ellen reacted to the mirror's revelations, although his face was neutral she could hear the beat of his heart quicken at the sight of this mysterious wanderer. She was yet to walk into his life but had captured his attention none the less. However, she could feel his weariness, the black cloud that hung over her head perplexed him and he grew cautious of her sudden appearance. _And so he should be_, she mused to herself. Raiwen The Cursed was not someone to be taken lightly, she was feared by many for a reason.

The image faded, leaving Legolas to now only see his mere reflection. Looking up, he eyed Galadriel curiously, still not sure what it meant.

"She will effect you in more ways than one, my friend. She bears a dark past, her only wish to banish it forever and you will help her without realising it."


	3. Rivendell

_Raiwen The Cursed_

Chapter Three: Rivendell

**A/N:** I would just like to thank everyone that has reviewed and took the time to read this story. I am so excited to write it and hope you continue to enjoy it! Special shout out to **Pink-Haired-Devil** who has become a regular reviewer, giant cookie to you!

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><p>The sloshing of puddles could be heard, as Raiwen, Aragorn and the hobbits trudged through the muddied outskirts of Bree until their boots felt the soft green grass beneath them. The sky was laced with swirls of grey clouds, the aftermath of a storm that had ravaged the lands. Morning was quickly fading into afternoon as they walked for what seemed like years, the quiet murmurs of the hobbits and the occasional bluster of wind being the only sound to comfort her.<p>

The thoughts of returning to Rivendell after nearly a decade crossed her mind; she could still envision the mossy mountains that encircled the glorious buildings, their waterfalls running deep within them, mirroring the beauty of the Elven lands in its reflection. While she admired Rivendell in its day, she could not deny it's magnificence when the stars twinkled in the night sky, illuminating the intricately carved bridges and pathways. That is what she admired about the sky, for it didn't matter if you were in Mordor or Lothlórien, it would always hold such pulchritude for all eyes to see.

However, she had always held Rivendell very close to her heart. In her desperate time of need she had stumbled along the elf ridden land and while she had been considered a threat at first by their guards, Lord Elrond had dismissed the idea and quickly aided her. She couldn't blame the guards of Rivendell for first thinking that of her; her hair was knotted, bits of debris nestling inside the ebony locks and what was left of her tunic and leathers were torn and mangled. The fresh blood that poured from her mouth and dribbled down her chin was that of a concern too. She remembered trying to sleep that night after Lord Elrond had kindly taken her in, he had made sure she ate her fill and tended to her wounds like a father to his daughter, not once would she ever forget what he did for her out of the goodness of his heart. However he couldn't heal the memories that ripped at her soul, he couldn't drown out the screams that tormented her endlessly and he couldn't change her for what she really was. That night she had woken up, kicking and shrieking against a disturbed Lord Elrond, the horrors of what she had done torturing her and making her relive every moment. The ellen never once questioned her about it, only sitting with her in his chambers as a source of comfort and she mentally thanked him for that, however she believed that he already knew somehow. She remembered asking him why he had aided her and he responded with a picture; a dark haired elf, bold and beautiful. The resemblance was infallible and she quickly understood his actions, grateful for it. After spending a few more days in Rivendell, Raiwen knew that she must move on despite feeling so secure. Lord Elrond's departing words had been burned into her memory since then.

_"Do not be afraid of change, it is leading you to a new beginning."_

The rustling and clanging of the hobbits brought her attention back to the task at hand, pivoting she watched with a furrow of her dark brows as they began to search through their sacks.

"Gentleman," Aragorn called back to them as he continued on his path, "We do not stop until nightfall."

"What about breakfast?" Pippin questioned.

"Forgive me if I am wrong, but I believe you have already eaten it." Raiwen countered, a glint of amusement sparkling in her scarlet irises.

"We've had one yes, but what about second breakfast?" Raiwen merely shook her head at his question in disbelief, she had heard the tales of hobbits and their love of food but never had she expected this.

She marched on further, coming into step with Aragorn as he took out two apples from his pack, tossing one to Raiwen with a sly smile. She listened as Pippin and Merry continued to chatter away about the importance of second breakfast, a small smile threatening to break out as she did so. Aragorn slung the apple towards the quartet with Merry catching it in his small hands triumphantly. Licking her lips, Raiwen bit into the apple, revelling in the sweet taste before following Aaragon's actions and lobbing the half eaten apple backwards into the clumsy hands of Pippin. A groan sounded from the young hobbit which elicited suppressed laughter from the two warrior's.

"I was just eating my _first _breakfast, since you halflings devoured ours." Raiwen joked.

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><p>The blackness of the night was quickly capturing the day when the group of travellers had reached the Watchtower of Amon Sul. Deciding that they all needed their rest before the final stretch to Rivendell, Aragorn told the others that they would be camping here for the night. Setting up a small camp that could be easily disposed of, Raiwen then set about handing out the jagged swords to the hobbits, explaining that she would eventually teach them how to defend themselves but warned them to keep them close for now as anything could occur. For safe measure, Aragorn and Raiwen scouted the area for any signs of danger, one could not be too careful. Satisfied for the time being, Raiwen hoisted herself back up the rocky hill, squinting when she saw a glow of orange and red.<p>

The imbeciles had lit a fire, did they not know what risk they were putting themselves in? Without another moment spared, she used all her might to scramble to the surface, just in time to hear the screeches and see the blurs of black. The Ringwraiths had found them once again. Springing into action, she felt the familiar hilts of her twin blades and swung them in circular motions as she sensed the adrenaline surge into her veins. Twisting and turning, Raiwen swiped in an arc like motion, letting the blade cut through the Nazgûl, noting that she could only see three hobbits. Allowing her eyes to scan over for a brief moment, she heeded that there was one Nazgûl off to the side, well away from the rest of them. It's attention was clearly held captive by something and without another thought she raced over to it, cutting and slicing in a frenzy of motions until it eventually drew back. The piercing cry of Frodo rang out as he now came into view, clutching at his shoulder in agony. Raiwen rushed over to his side, examining the fresh wound with a slight cringe. A sensation that she hadn't felt in a while tingled at her gums and she forced herself to take a step back, allowing Sam to tend to his fallen friend. Aragorn eyed her wearily after taking care of the last wraith and then turned his concern to the injured hobbit. Rivendell was still a long way away, they would need at least six days to get there and Frodo was already slipping in and out of conciousness.

Examining the forgotten sword once honed by a Black Rider, Aragorn watched as the steel faded away, confirming his suspicions. "He's been stabbed by a Morgul blade." Throwing the sword down in disdain, he scooped a crying Frodo up into his arms, "This is beyond my skill to heal. He needs Elvish medicine."

Upon hearing that, Raiwen scoured in the opposite direction, looking for a particular weed Lord Elrond had once showed to her. Having no luck on her side, she returned to Aragorn seeing that he had fared better as he placed the medicine carefully onto Frodo's wound, a familiar face now crouched next to him. Raiwen searched her face, swearing to Valar that she had seen her before.

"She's an _elf_." She heard one of the halflings say in awe. Then realisation hit her. Arwen Undomiel, daughter of Elrond.

She watched on as the two exchanged words in Elvish and it agitated her slightly that she couldn't understand what they were saying. Yet, the emotion faltered when she saw the soft exchange between the two, a part of her secretly wishing she had the pleasure of sharing that with someone. But she couldn't afford to think like that, not with the way she was.

It seemed the she elf had won the trade of words as she mounted the ivory horse with ease, Frodo sagging in front of her wheezing now and again. The pair strode off into the forest, leaving Aragorn with a conflicted expression etched upon his face. Samwise was quick to voice his concern for his fellow hobbit to which Raiwen sighed, trying to reassure him as best she could although she wasn't sure herself if he would make it through.

When the sun arose and the pinky hues filtered in from the clouds, the group hastily made way to Rivendell, eager to know of Frodo and his well being. Raiwen had no doubt in her mind that Elrond would have healed him to the best of his abilities, she just hoped that Arwen had got there in time. Despite her stern exterior, she would loathe to see the looks on the faces of the normally jolly hobbits when they learned of their companion's demise.

_Stay strong, Frodo. _Raiwen prayed silently to herself.


End file.
